


A burden shared

by Jimcloud



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bittersweet, But not how you think, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, it makes sense in context i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27179719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimcloud/pseuds/Jimcloud
Summary: There's no real telling how you and your soulmate will be linked. Might be you share a birthmark, or something like that. That's pretty common. I used to tell people I didn't have a soulmate because it wasn't obvious how I was linked to one, just for funsies.I don't really do that, anymore.(AU where your soulmate feels your pain instead of you)
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Oma Kokichi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 114





	A burden shared

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ToxicPineapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/gifts).



> Fair warning, there is a little bit of referenced self-harm in this. It's not a huge thing, but I encourage you all to be safe!!

"Saihara-chan, Saihara-chan!" I grin. "You've  _ got _ to guess how I got  _ this _ one," I point to a spot on my arm.

Saihara winces a little, like he usually does, then frowns, then tilts his head in study. "Those are bite marks," he says, "and I've been wondering about those. A… dog, maybe?"

Dog, huh? I've been wondering, too.

"Nnnope!" I shake my head, wiggling a finger from the arm pulling up my sleeve. "That's a crown mark, actually. I got it fighting the king of devils himself."

Saihara raises an eyebrow. "Is that so," he says, in a tone that obviously says he does not believe it is so.

I huff, crossing my arms. "That's  _ rude, _ you know! Why, I think I'm going to…" and  _ cue _ the waterworks. Saihara doesn't even react, which is how you know he's a keeper. I'm sure he'll make his soulmate very happy, someday.

Couldn't be me, though. I dunno if I've got the soul for romance, anyhow.

There's a squealing noise from behind me, and I jerk around at the sound before relaxing. It's just Amami.

"Sorry," he says, rubbing the back of his head and smiling that same sad smile I think he'd wear to my funeral, "I didn't mean to spook you. I'll see you guys in a few days, alright?" He says, starting to head out of the classroom.

"Byyyye, Amami-chan," I lilt, "don't do anything stupid!"

"I won't," he says, softer than he should, before closing the classroom door behind him.

He always dresses up his lies in the softest voice he can find.

I let my sleeve fall back into place, but I don't let my smile do the same.

Not until I'm out of the room and alone.

I don't remember where Amami was going. He mentioned in the group chat. Europe, I think? France, maybe, Germany? Doesn't particularly matter, but I think about it, idly, and don't get much sleep that night, a muted, resigned sort of fear in my subconscious.

I think it's justified, really.

I cause trouble for people the next day, plenty of it, and it's fun, and I almost forget, I do. It's a near thing. I even manage to slip into sleep that night. 

Only to wake up to stabbing pain in my stomach. I gasp, my eyes flitting wide open, then squeezing shut. Breathe. Just breathe, Ouma. God, this one is bad. Just breathe.

I manage to slink myself standing, leaning on the doorframe for support as I head outside. It gets easier with the repetition, to remind my body that the pain doesn't  _ increase _ when I move. No, it rises and falls at seemingly random intervals. Or you'd think it was random, if you didn't know.

Like I've known all year.

It gets easier with the practice, to pretend it doesn't hurt. To correct my posture, to smile broadly, to regulate my breathing. And  _ oh, _ if there's  _ anything _ I've had, it's  _ practice. _

I get to the infirmary. Tsumiki's not in, which isn't surprising, since it's 4 A.M., but it's fine. I just break into her medicine cabinet, steal a set of pain medication I recognize, and leave a little note.

_ Tsumiki-chaaaan! _

_ I O U one bottle of meds. SO sorry for the trouble! _

_ My stupid soulmate just went and got himself stabbed again. _

_ -The Usual _

I don't sign it with my name for fear somebody else would see it, and stuff it in the medicine cabinet. Tsumiki's the only one who knows, and even then, only because I need the pain medicine sometimes to  _ function. _

I slip into the dining hall and start making tea. He'll be back, mmm, probably midday or a little late, maybe. Depending on the flight and whether he gets treated.

So, midday, probably. 

There's no real telling how you and your soulmate will be linked. Might be you share a birthmark, or something like that. That's pretty common. I used to tell people I didn't have a soulmate because it wasn't obvious how I was linked to one, just for funsies.

I don't really do that, anymore.

It was a cloudy afternoon when it happened. I must've been about seven or so. My arm started hurting out of nowhere, and I started crying. The staff took me to a doctor, because I was absolutely inconsolable. After some tests, they determined that I didn't feel pain.

More specifically, that I didn't feel  _ my _ pain. I only felt my soulmate's.

I drink my tea slowly, dropping the first pill down my throat. I'll visit Tsumiki in the morning, and skip classes after lunch. No big.

My thoughts turn a little dark, and I uncover my left wrist, mostly as a reminder.

I have two identical scars on my wrists, probably from rope burn. Wouldn't know. One of them isn't identical anymore, though, another small scar piled on top of it.

It's from when I was an angry, rebellious teenager. Well. More of an angry, rebellious teenager.

I just wanted him to  _ feel something,  _ for once. Consequences.

…

I don't feel that way, anymore. Not usually. Looking at it helps me cool off.

...I just really hope it's worth it, Amami. Whatever it is you're looking for.

* * *

I messed up again.

You'd think I'd know better by now, that I'd know where not to go when, what not to do, generally how to avoid being stabbed by a mugger.  _ I'd _ certainly think I'd know better by now, but apparently not.

And with the difficulty breathing and moving, the slight wooziness from blood loss, comes guilt. The same crushing guilt as always.

Somewhere out there, there's someone who only knows me for the pain I cause. And it's, it's fitting, really, I think, as I limp back to my hotel, sterilize the wound and patch it up, as I breathe a word of apology, same as I always do. Like somehow they can hear it. Like somehow it would matter.

I think about them a lot, that mystery person, but never more than when I get injured. I think about how they're in pain right now because of my failures, how I don't know when it will stop, how it's, it's fitting, really. That the person I'm allegedly destined to be close to and fall for is someone who only knows me for all the suffering I cause.

…

Not that there's much else to know me for.

They probably hate me. No, I  _ know _ they do. One time, not long after I got stabbed, there was a sharp pain on my wrist, and I-

It was a response, I know. A spite gesture, maybe. A plea to stop.

But I can't stop. No matter what I do, I can't stop.

I'm sorry, soulmate.

The next day or so is a bit of a blur, thanks mainly to the blood loss and dissociation. I cry a little, but I dry my tears fast. They're self-pity, mostly. Or some kind of apology that poor soulmate of mine will never see. But before I know it, I'm standing in front of Hope's Peak again, my bag slung over my back.

It's midday, during afternoon classes, so he shouldn't be here.

But I'm not surprised when he is. Ouma's sitting on a bench, leaning back, staring at me, his face impassive.

"Get yourself hurt again?" Ouma raises an eyebrow, looking me up and down.

I frown, and then nod. He nods, quietly, and then the two of us head towards the dorms, to my room. I lay down, and he lifts my shirt to look at my wound.

It started one night, not long after I started attending here. It was late, and I was convinced that nobody else would be awake, but Ouma was just… sitting, in the courtyard. He seemed a little surprised when I showed up, and then he… pretty much instantly guessed that I had gotten shot. I tried to deny it, but he's like a living lie detector or something.

In the end, he had insisted that he come along and look the wound over for his silence, and if that's what it took, I thought, then fine.

He rewraps the injury, in the here and now, and goes to get me some water and make food (" _ How _ long has it been since you've eaten? Yeah, that's what I thought.") He's…

More tender than you'd expect him to be. It reminds me of home, a little, which is maybe why I can't bring myself to initiate conversations with him otherwise. Because home isn't something I've earned. I lost the right to that, a long,  _ long _ time ago.

I wouldn't do  _ this, _ either, but Ouma has an almost preternatural way of telling when I'm coming back home injured. I don't know  _ what _ it is that tips him off. I show up at pretty much every hour of the day. You'd think he'd miss it at  _ some _ point.

He comes back in with food, soup and water and orange juice, and holds the tray for me as I sit up - that probably hurts, sorry soulmate - and put the tray in my lap. He just frowns, pulling the desk chair up next to the bed as I eat.

"You're resting at least a week this time, right?" He asks. "You  _ can't _ go out like that."

I chuckle, a little bitterly. "I'm sure I  _ could. _ I have a pretty good pain tolerance."

Actually, my pain tolerance isn't great, but that's not often an issue.

Ouma looks mad about that, which, yeah, fair, I don't know what I expected. "Maybe you do," he says, tone a little icy, "but you're gonna get your dumb ass hurt in a way you can't come back from if you keep testing your limits like this."

Part of me, the absolute worst part of me, thinks that might be a good thing. It'd definitely be a good thing for my soulmate. One last pain and then nothing. Wouldn't it be nice?

...Enough pity, Rantaro.

"I can't just stop," I make myself say. It comes out in a whispered hiss. "I can't."

"I know," Ouma whispers back. He stares me down with an expression I can't read. It's… hard, to read Ouma. I can usually tell, with people, but he keeps me guessing.

...But. "You don't know, not really," I say, barely above a whisper.

"Don't I?" Ouma challenges me, one eyebrow raised.

...He doesn't. He  _ can't. _ If he knew, he wouldn't sit here like this, care for me like this, stay like this.

I take a few spoonfuls of soup, and drink some orange juice, putting it on the nightstand. "Do," I stop, breathe, "do you have siblings?"

Ouma grins, like he's about to reply, but it stops dead, and he frowns, instead. "Nah," he says, deflated, "not really."

I shake my head. "Then you wouldn't get it."

"Try me," Ouma's tone is defiant, his eyes unexpectedly full of fire. "Might be I surprise you."

…

I don't know why, but it's… hard, to say no to that.

So I tell him. I tell him more than I was expecting to, I finish my soup and I'm crying by the end of it, despite my best efforts, because I always cry when I talk about my sisters, I can't help it, I can't stop.

Ouma just nods. Doesn't say a word through it, beyond the occasional affirmative, or a question asking for more information. I don't know what he thinks, how he feels. Nothing.

He probably wants me to stop. Everybody wants me to stop.

"Well, it's settled then," he says, finally, a smile breaking out on his face. "Amami-chan has to deal with  _ me _ next time he goes out looking for his sisters!"

What.

"I'm going," I scowl, getting ready for a fight, "I'm  _ not _ stoppi-"

"Shut up, stupidhead," Ouma cuts me off, rolling his eyes. "Not like that. I  _ mean, _ I'm going with you."

What?

…

_ What?? _

"You can't," I say, before I think about it. Ouma is… he's a real little guy, and he acts tough but I think it's just an act, that he's sensitive underneath it all, and he, he,

He could get lost.

_ He could get lost. _

Ouma scoffs. "I'm pretty sure I  _ can,  _ actually. Who's gonna stop me? Who?"

…

"It's dangerous." You could get lost. "Something could happen to you." You could get lost. "You could get hurt." You could get lost.

"Doesn't stop  _ you, _ does it?" Ouma stares me down, his gaze intense. He breaks it after a long moment, looking away. "Look. I get wanting to do this on your own. Fix your mistakes or whatever the hell is going on in your head. But really, if you're leaving in the next two weeks, you  _ need _ someone with you."

Ouma looks back at me, waving a finger. "And besides! Two heads are better than one, Amami-chan! If you have a better shot at finding your sisters,  _ shouldn't _ you take it?"

…

Ouma… I'm just afraid. I'm afraid. You could get hurt. Not everyone has my pain tolerance.

Haha.

Or,

or you could get lost. And if I lost somebody else, I… don't know what I'd do.

"C'monnn," Ouma pouts, doing the puppy dog eyes, "it'd be a personal favor to me.  _ Pleeeeeease. _ "

I sigh. "Once. I'll do it once."

Ouma grins from ear to ear, clapping his hands, and I try to ignore the pit of dread forming in my stomach.

This isn't what I expected at all. I was sort of expecting a flat denial, or pleas for me to stop. The usual things I get. But in a way, this is almost worse. It's… unknown, and it's terrifying.

But… Ouma really is sweet, isn't he? I look over to him, a small smile on my face despite everything. "You're a very nice person, Ouma-kun," I say, "thank you."

"I'm not," he replies instantly, smile slipping off his face. "I'm really,  _ really _ not."

…

I'm not sure if I'll ever get Ouma, really.

**Author's Note:**

> Honesty? in MY Oumami? Never.
> 
> This concept got brought up and it lives in my head COMPLETELY rent-free now. I wrote this until I had to sleep and then woke up and wrote it until it was finished, like a man possessed. I keep thinking of other ideas for this AU and having to be like "NO satan NO dont DO IT fuck OFF."
> 
> I, we'll see okay.


End file.
